


Enchanted

by Creme13rulee



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arranged Marriage, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Blind Character, Blindness, Centaur Viktor Nikiforov, Centaurs, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Oblivious Victor Nikiforov, past character death-Vicchan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-01-04 14:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creme13rulee/pseuds/Creme13rulee
Summary: Viktor wasn’t sure  when he fell in love with Yuuri. He just knew that the times his people visited Yuuri’s village were his happiest.  Hasetsu meant happy. It meant Yuuri.  When Viktor’s clan makes a second trip back to town to prepare for Viktor’s arranged wedding, something has torn his Yuuri apart.  Suddenly, Viktor isn’t so sure that Yuuri will always be there, and that the path he’s been following isn’t the one he can stay on.





	1. Meeting

Viktor met Yuuri when he was just a colt, one spring when a late snow had frosted the cherry blossoms. His clan had returned to Hasetsu for the annual spring festival. Viktor was still wrapped in his winter wools, his elder sister in charge of him but not interested in watching him too closely. She had already trotted to a few stalls ahead, more interested in the booth of silks and hair ornaments than the food.   
But Katya had missed the most beautiful work of all. Underneath the local inn’s meat bowl dinner sat a small boy, his fingers weaving fragrant leaves and delicate blossoms together. Viktor had crouched down-- humans were much smaller than Viktor’s people-- and this one had soft cheeks and dark curls.

He didn’t react at first, fingers moving the stems into the form of a crown. His eyes weren’t focused on the blooms, but rested blankly on the horizon. Which made it easy to observe the frost-like silver clouding the pupils of his warm brown eyes.

“Those are beautiful.” Viktor said, and Yuuri had jolted, crushing the flower in his palm. “May I buy one?” Viktor pulled the coin purse from the wool wrapped around his chest, tucked just below his belt. 

“Oh.. you can have one.” Yuuri flushed, lifting a finished crown from the bare grass at his feet. Viktor stared as Yuuri’s fingers lighted across his skin, meeting his hand and trailing up his arm until his palm found the side of his head. His other hand found his head more readily, placing the fresh flowers upon his silver head. “There.”

“Well, aren’t you going to say anything? How about ‘beautiful?” Viktor primped, pouting. He was a spoiled child, the youngest and the future head of the clan. Most humans grew annoyed with him.

But Yuuri had just smiled. “Well.. your hair is very soft.”  
Viktor blinked, smiling and oddly flattered. Most commented on how silver is was, or its healthy length. No one ever commented on the care he took brushing it. His father kept his hair in a braid, and few ever let their hair loose like Viktor could.

“Thanks…. What’s your name?” Viktor asked, watching the boy sit on his knees. He wore the curious coat made out of squares, the bolts of fabric sold in town sewn into something more. He wore red with a blue coat, the human script embroidered onto the collar. His mother wore similar, and father as well. 

“Yuuri.” The boy said, going back to weaving the flowers together.

“I’m Viktor.” He held out his hand, waiting a good ten seconds unnoticed. “Greetings.”

Yuuri bowed, and Viktor was instantly smitten. He watched Yuuri until the stage opened and music began to play.

“The dancers! Let’s go watch it, Yuuri!” Viktor stood up, careful not to back into the crowd. He would not fit underneath the table with Yuuri, but the crowd was conscious enough to step around his tail.

“I can’t--- I’ll get lost.” Yuuri complained, twisting as Viktor grabbed his arm and pulled him from his familys booth.

“I’ll return him in ten minutes!” Viktor sang to the woman at the wood stove. Yuuri was tiny, even standing up, but tall enough to hold hands comfortably.

Viktor led him forward-- the humans feet were soft looking and he felt guilty for dragging him out. 

Yuuri tilted his head part way down the main road. “Are you riding a horse?”

Viktor laughed harder than he had in months. “No, silly. I’m… um, you people call it ‘centaur’.”

“A what?” Yuuri wrinkled his nose, and Viktor fought the urge to squeeze him. 

“Part of me looks like you, the other part has hooves.” 

“Oh.” Yuuri has accepted it easily. He kept hold of Viktor’s hand throughout the entire night, following him from the stage to the candied fruit booth, and reluctantly back to his familys booth when Katya scolded them.

“You’ll come back, right?” Yuuri asked, his hand resting on the cloth flag of his family’s table.

And he had. Viktor had made sure of it. He begged his father to make Hasetsu their base between their travels. They visited the town every season to restock their goods and take refuge in warm human shelters.

Viktor was there when Yuuri ran to him showing off a wriggling brown potato wrapped in a blanket. Freshly born, Yuuri had named the puppy after Viktor. 

Viktor was there when Yuuri was alone in the courtyard with Vicchan, free to venture outside his house without supervision. The puppy had barked at Viktor, but instantly wagged his tail. Yuuri followed the bounding animal easily, the lead around his neck tied to Yuuri’s waist.

Viktor was there the next season, when the rope was replaced by a magical bond. They played together out in the fields, Vicchan leading them back home when the sun set and Viktor was forced to return to his family.

He was there for Yuuri for every season, from colt until stallion, and now Viktor would be there for Yuuri just two weeks after his last visit.

It thrilled him-- they finally stopped moving constantly across the land. It was the way of his people, but it tired Viktor out. He dreamed of staying in Hasetsu with Yuuri, chewing on mint leaves and baking in the sunlight.   
The only guarantee of keeping that was following tradition. It was time for Viktor to marry. Once married, he would be in charge of the ebb and flow of his clan. He could circle closer and closer to Hasetsu-- and maybe, just maybe, stay there.

It was easy-- his parents had instantly acquiesced to his request to buy special cloth for the wedding garb, and the need to return to the closest port. They even agreed to paying the fee for the green by the bay, where Yuuri’s people drank liquor and danced under paper lanterns.

He had only needed to spend an hour before he was free. His bride was due to arrive the next day-- a gift from another clan whose name had slipped Viktor’s mind. The second they were done making plans Viktor slipped away, galloping toward the Katsuki’s inn.

He slowed as soon as he saw the black cloth draping the windows. He crept into the doorway, bowing to fit in the smaller quarters. 

“Hello? It’s Viktor… is Yuuri home?”

A shape moved from the back room, and Yuuri’s big sister emerged from behind the screen door. 

“Oh, Viktor.” She sounded unimpressed, but she always had been. “Yuuri’s….” He felt his heart plunge into ice. “Sick.”  
“Is he dying? What does he need?” Viktor felt his throat constrict at the thought. “I’ll get it. I swear.”

Mari blinked rapidly, bowing her head. “He’s not. But… Vicchan died.”

Viktor’s heart twisted. This was no better. Yuuri’s constant companion of many years, gone.

“The magic Minako-sensei did… it was an attachment to Vicchan… so Yuuri’s not really… in the mood for company.” Mari sniffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“I can cheer him up. Please. Where is he?”

“In front of the altar.” Mari cast a look down at Viktor’s hooves. “I’ll… go get him.”

It felt like forever, but it was only thirty seconds until Mari returned, her brothers hand on her arm. 

He looked awful. His under-eyes dark, eyes downcast and skin pale. His hair on one side of his head was flattened on one side, and it looked like he hadn’t changed in days. But he also looked like he didn’t care.

“Yuuri. I’m so sorry.” Viktor gasped. Yuuri’s eyes widened at his voice,a momentary smile curving on his lips. As Yuuri had grown, he had gradually lost his baby softness, growing taller than most of his family. He had a small waist and a handsome young face. 

He had expected Yuuri to marry by now-- Viktor was old himself, and he had attended the village ceremony several times over the years. Part of him was glad--Viktor didn’t want to think about sharing Yuuri with anyone, husband or wife.

Yuuri’s eyes filled with tears that fell freely down his cheeks. 

“Go… Go out for a walk.” Mari prodded.

“I’m tired.” Yuuri mumbled, his voice weak and rough from tears.

“You can sit on my back.” Viktor offered himself immediately. “Get some fresh air.”

“Go on.” Mari prodded, stepping forward. Viktor knelt down, and Mari bent to help boost Yuuri up over his back. Viktor immediately felt himself soothe at the weight of Yuuri against him, and the heartbeat pressed into his bare back as Yuuri’s arms wrapped around his torso.

He didn’t speak until they were in the open air again, Yuuri’s knees squeezing Viktor’s side.

“Your hair is longer.” Yuuri said softly. Viktor smiled, Yuuri’s voice warming him to his core.   
“Is it?”

“Some of it is in my mouth.” Yuuri mumbled. Adult Yuuri was heavier than the Yuuri Viktor had met all those years ago.. But little Yuuri also had been terrified of riding on his back. “Can I braid it?”

“Please!” Viktor couldn’t help but grin, walking carefully as he relished Yuuri’s fingers combing through his hair. Yuuri’s handiwork was so fine that his hair hold the style even without a ribbon.

“You spoil me Yuuri. I am so glad to be back.” Viktor cooed, bringing him to their usual romping grounds. It was the part of town that held the most sunlight and wildflowers.

“It’s...still spring.” Yuuri whispered. “Why are you here?”

“Oh! I’m getting married, and my father let us come back for supplies.”

Yuuri’s hands fell from the braid.

“Oh. Congratulations.”

“You can say that at the party! It’s the only part that’s worth it.” Yuuri went quiet, enough that the only sound were the cicadas in the grass.

“Yuuri?” Viktor asked, and Yuuri only hummed softly, his weight heavy against Viktor’s upper back. 

Viktor chattered on about the past two weeks once it became obvious that Yuuri was reverting back to his solemn self. Yuuri fell asleep on the walk back, lulled to sleep by Viktor’s even steps.

When Mari pulled her brother off his back, Viktor didn’t miss the glint of tear tracks on Yuuri’s cheeks. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow, Yuuri.” Viktor whispered, helping Mari steady Yuuri on his feet at his slowly woke up. He expected Yuuri to shuffle away and shrink further into himself--the way he usually did as they grew up. Instead Yuuri buried his face in Viktors chest, his cheeks sticky against Viktor’s bare skin. He whispered something in his land’s language-- not the Common language they shared, before his his arms dropped, his long sleeves covering his hands. His hand found the wall and his fingers trailed along it as he slowly disappeared back into his home without a goodbye.


	2. Magic

Viktor couldn’t ignore the quick gallop of his heart in his chest as he returned to his clans camp. The spot where Yuuri’s cheek pressed against his skin felt warm, and overall pleasant behind the tinge of worry.

Yuuri wasn’t himself. 

The magic tie to Vicchan-- now hanging loose-- was hurting him. And the only way to get Yuuri to see that would be to show him.

He knew Hasetsu housed a lower mage just on the edge of town. Georgi was more experienced in magic than most. The issue was not finding someone with magic--it was getting Yuuri there.

Yuuri wasn’t out of bed when Viktor returned to Yuutopia that afternoon. Hiroko answered the door, a tight smile on her soft cheeks.

“Ah, Vikkun. I’m glad to see you,” Hiroko sighed, pulling the knit socks, handmade to fit on his hooves and to soften his treat on the straw mats that made up half of the inn. “Yuuri has been wilting”

Viktor bent, trying his best to help Yuuri’s mother pull the socks onto his hooves. He ducked under the doorway, finding his way to Yuuri’s room with a quick word of thanks.

Yuuri lay on his futon on the floor, his eyes open, dark eyelashes thick with tears. There was no use being sneaky on human floors even if Viktor could. Viktor knocked on the plaster wall three times, smiling as Yuuri jolted out of his reverie and sat up.

“Who is it?” Yuuri looked no better than the night before, but his hair was washed and he was dressed in the thin white robes humans called pajamas.

“Viktor, you hay-head.” Viktor teased, bending under the doorway and doing his best to fit in Yuuri’s room without knocking over one of his many potted plants.

A smile flitted across his face, before something pulled it away quicker than it appeared. As if Yuuri remembered that he should not be happy.

Viktor did not like it.

“I want to spend the day with you. It’s past lunch already.” Viktor whined, but the concern overshadowed his humor. 

“I can’t tell.” Yuuri murmured, still tangled up in his blankets.

“Where is the time piece I got you?” Viktor had found a gold clock piece at one of the other ports his clan visited. It had a filigree cover that sprung open to an open face with raised numbers . Viktor had purchased it immediately and strung it on a gold chain, one that he had seen strung around Yuuri’s neck since the day it was gifted to him.

“It’s in my bag.” Yuuri bowed his head, avoiding Viktor’s presumed gaze.

“Why?” A peculiar sting grew just behind his upper ribcage. “Did it break?”

“Just seems improper, given the circumstances.” Yuuri mumbled, his hair falling into his clouded eyes.

“Given the…. What do you mean Yuuri? It’s yours!” Viktor huffed. “Where is it? I’ll put it back on you--”

“Gold is for dowrys, Viktor.” Yuuri bit out, his hands gathering into fists on his lap.

“Oh. Humans are so strange.” Viktor waited for the typical laughter at Viktor’s impertinence, but it never came. “Come. Let’s go for a ride.”

“I’m not dressed.” Yuuri went back to mumbling, rubbing his face. “Find me some clothing.”   
Viktor found the neatly folded robe that Yuuri’s people typically wore, dropping it onto Yuuri’s lap. He flushed, glad that Yuuri couldn’t see the color burn on his cheeks as he changed. They had frequented the natural hot springs on the land behind the inn many times over the years, but Viktor still found himself unable to turn away at the sight of the human body. Of Yuuri. Of his shapely legs, his soft thighs, of his strange ‘feet’ and round toes. 

“What color is it?” Yuuri asked once he had tied the trousers around his waist, and secured the front across his chest.

“Blue. Of course. It’s my favorite color on you.” Viktor pressed his hands to his cheeks, trying to calm his strange reaction to his best friend. Yuuri had no shame--there was no reason for Viktor to feel it.

The feeling dimmed somewhat at the soft fluttering of Yuuri’s fingers meeting Viktor’s forearms, Yuuri’s arms out as he crossed the room. His hands flattened against Viktor’s skin, his palms pressing and sliding until Yuuri found his shoulders, then back, following his spine all the way down to his withers.

“You’re in the way of my cane.” Yuuri's hands smoothed over the fine hair covering Viktor’s dappled grey body. His mouth twisted, and he blinked away fresh tears.

Yuuri hadn’t used a cane since Vicchan had learned to walk.

“Let’s go shopping. I want to get you a new outfit.” Viktor found the cane-- a glorified bamboo branch, still green.

“I don’t need…”

“For the wedding! You need to look good. I want you there, up front with me.” Viktor tried to sound cheerful. But he had no idea what a wedding ceremony was like. He had been told so by his family at one point in time, long after his attention span had worn out. It had faded from his memory just as the exact title of his bride to be had.

“I don’t feel like going out.” Yuuri slid away from Viktor, the cane loose in his hand.

“Yuuri. You can’t mourn Vicchan forever. Not like this.” Viktor groaned. “He’d want you to be outside… in the sun… He’d want you to be happy.”

“You don’t know what he’d want. He’s not connected to you.”

Viktor paused.  
“Yuuri… Maybe you need to cut the connection.” Viktor ventured slowly.

“No.” Yuuri said flatly, slowly lowering himself back onto his bed.

“But Yuuri--”

“He was there for me his whole life. I have to be there for him for mine.” Yuuri laid the cane next to his futon, his jaw tight. 

“But it’s hurting you--”

“I’m fine, Viktor.” Yuuri nearly growled.

“We should talk with Georgi. Just to make sure.”

“No.”

“He could make sure its healthy and safe into the afterlife.”

“If I talk to Georgi, will you stop talking about it?” Yuuri’s voice broke, his hands shaking. Shame crept back up Viktor’s back.

“Yes. It will.”  
~  
Georgi’s home smelled of tea leaves and spice with a faint acridness leaking from a far corner. It was fairly homey despite the darkness and overall black aesthetic. Georgi seemed a bit strange, to Viktor-- all sharp edges and drama compared to Yuuri. But it didn’t matter. He had the tools to make Yuuri realize that Viktor was right.

“I’m not sure how to present it… Typically magic shows through light and the absence of it. I’ll try to analyze it as much as I can and explain it easily.” Georgi rambled as he crushed the contents of several glass jars in his stone mortar and pestle. Yuuri sat at the kitchen table, which was covered with black velvet, a teacup sat untouched in front of him.

“Just do it.” Yuuri said softly, his usual stubbornness reserved for his family and close friends. Viktor stood in the living-room, trying not to knock over a platter of purple succulent-looking plants. Humans sure likes to bring the outdoors in.

Georgi crossed the kitchen in three steps, smudging the ground powder down his forehead, before dropping his hand to Yuuri’s breastbone and pressing the remaining powder to the skin between the layers of his shirt.

Viktor watched as threads of light poured from the dark powder on Yuuri’s skin, shimmering on his brow. One thread frayed into nothing, while a bundle of white light grew from Yuuri’s heard, floating through the air-- disappearing just above the skin above Viktor’s own heart. The strongest thread of light-- more a string or cord-- burned a passionate red, reaching Viktor’s skin and disappearing into it as the white threads faded, dissolving into thin air between them.

It was beautiful.

It was terrible.

Georgi was quiet, lifting his dark painted eyes to Viktor’s.

“I can see your tie to Vicchan still strong.” Georgi touched the fray end of the illusion. Yuuri smiled, or at least the ghost of one haunted his lips.

“As well as unrequited love…” Georgi continued. “Also quite strong.”

A knot rose in Viktor’s throat. 

“That’s all.” Georgi brushed the ash off of Yuuri’s skin, the lights vanishing in a blink.


	3. Rock

 

Viktor couldn’t ignore the quick gallop of his heart in his chest as he returned to his clans camp. The spot where Yuuri’s cheek pressed against his skin felt warm, and overall pleasant behind the tinge of worry.

 

Yuuri wasn’t himself.  

 

The magic tie to Vicchan-- now hanging loose-- was hurting him.  And the only way to get Yuuri to see that would be to show him.

 

He knew Hasetsu housed a lower mage just on the edge of town. Georgi was more experienced in magic than most.  The issue was not finding someone with magic--it was getting Yuuri there.

 

Yuuri wasn’t out of bed when Viktor returned to Yuutopia that afternoon. Hiroko answered the door, a tight smile on her soft cheeks.

 

“Ah, Vikkun. I’m glad to see you,” Hiroko sighed, pulling the knit socks, handmade to fit on his hooves and to soften his treat on the straw mats that made up half of the inn. “Yuuri has been wilting”

 

Viktor bent, trying his best to help Yuuri’s mother pull the socks onto his hooves. He ducked under the doorway,  finding his way to Yuuri’s room with a quick word of thanks.

 

Yuuri lay on his futon on the floor, his eyes open, dark eyelashes thick with tears. There was no use being sneaky on human floors even if Viktor could. Viktor knocked on the plaster wall three times, smiling as Yuuri jolted out of his reverie and sat up.

 

“Who is it?” Yuuri looked no better than the night before, but his hair was washed and he was dressed in the thin white robes humans called pajamas.

 

“Viktor, you hay-head.” Viktor teased, bending under the doorway and doing his best to fit in Yuuri’s room without knocking over one of his many potted plants.

 

A smile flitted across his face, before something pulled it away quicker than it appeared.  As if Yuuri remembered that he should not be happy.

 

Viktor did not like it.

 

“I want to spend the day with you. It’s past  lunch already.” Viktor whined, but the concern overshadowed his humor. 

 

“I can’t tell.” Yuuri murmured, still tangled up in his blankets.

 

“Where is the time piece I got you?” Viktor had found a gold clock piece at one of the other ports his clan visited.  It had a filigree cover that sprung open to an open face with raised numbers . Viktor had purchased it immediately and strung it on a gold chain, one that he had seen strung around Yuuri’s neck since the day it was gifted to him.

 

“It’s in my bag.” Yuuri bowed his head, avoiding Viktor’s presumed gaze.

 

“Why?” A peculiar sting grew just behind his upper ribcage. “Did it break?”

 

“Just seems improper, given the circumstances.” Yuuri mumbled, his hair falling into his clouded eyes.

 

“Given the…. What do you mean Yuuri? It’s yours!” Viktor huffed. “Where is it? I’ll put it back on you--”

 

“Gold is for dowrys, Viktor.” Yuuri bit out, his hands gathering into fists on his lap.

 

“Oh. Humans are so strange.” Viktor waited for the typical laughter at Viktor’s impertinence, but it never came.  “Come. Let’s go for a ride.”

 

“I’m not dressed.” Yuuri went back to mumbling, rubbing his face. “Find me some clothing.” 

Viktor  found the neatly folded robe that Yuuri’s people typically wore, dropping it onto Yuuri’s lap.  He flushed, glad that Yuuri couldn’t see the color burn on his cheeks as he changed. They had frequented the natural hot springs on the land behind the inn many times over the years, but Viktor still found himself unable to turn away at the sight of the human body. Of Yuuri. Of his shapely legs, his soft thighs, of his strange ‘feet’ and round toes. 

 

“What color is it?” Yuuri asked once he had tied the trousers around his waist, and secured the front across his chest.

 

“Blue. Of course. It’s my favorite color on you.” Viktor pressed his hands to his cheeks, trying to calm his strange reaction to his best friend.  Yuuri had no shame--there was no reason for Viktor to feel it.

 

The feeling dimmed somewhat at the soft fluttering of Yuuri’s fingers meeting  Viktor’s forearms, Yuuri’s arms out as he crossed the room. His hands flattened against Viktor’s skin, his palms pressing and sliding until Yuuri found his shoulders, then back, following his spine all the way down to his withers.

 

“You’re in the way of my cane.” Yuuri's hands smoothed over the fine hair covering Viktor’s dappled grey body.  His mouth twisted, and he blinked away fresh tears.

 

Yuuri hadn’t used a cane since Vicchan had learned to walk.

 

“Let’s go shopping. I want to get you  a new outfit.” Viktor found the cane-- a glorified bamboo branch, still green.

 

“I don’t need…”

 

“For the wedding! You need to look good. I want you there,  up front with me.” Viktor tried to sound cheerful. But he had no idea what a wedding ceremony was like. He had been told so by his family at one point in time, long after his attention span had worn out.  It had faded from his memory just as the exact title of his bride to be had.

 

“I don’t feel like going out.” Yuuri slid away from Viktor, the cane loose in his hand.

 

“Yuuri. You can’t mourn Vicchan forever. Not like this.” Viktor groaned. “He’d want you to be outside… in the sun… He’d want you to be happy.”

 

“You don’t know what he’d want. He’s not connected to you.”

 

Viktor paused.

“Yuuri… Maybe you need to  cut the connection.” Viktor ventured slowly.

 

“No.” Yuuri said flatly, slowly lowering himself back onto his bed.

 

“But Yuuri--”

 

“He was there for me his whole life. I have to be there for him for mine.” Yuuri laid the cane next to his futon, his jaw tight. 

 

“But it’s hurting you--”

 

“I’m fine, Viktor.” Yuuri nearly growled.

 

“We should talk with Georgi. Just to make sure.”

 

“No.”

 

“He could make sure its healthy and safe into the afterlife.”

 

“If I talk to Georgi, will  you stop talking about it?” Yuuri’s voice broke, his hands shaking. Shame crept back up Viktor’s back.

 

“Yes. It will.”

~

Georgi’s home smelled of tea leaves and spice with a faint acridness leaking from a far corner. It was fairly homey despite the darkness and overall black aesthetic. Georgi seemed a bit strange, to Viktor-- all sharp edges and drama compared to Yuuri. But it didn’t matter. He had the tools to make Yuuri realize that Viktor was right.

 

“I’m not sure how to present it… Typically magic shows through light and the absence of it. I’ll try to analyze it as much as I can and explain it easily.”  Georgi rambled as he crushed the contents of several glass jars in his stone mortar and pestle. Yuuri sat at the kitchen table, which was covered with black velvet, a teacup sat untouched in front of him.

 

“Just do it.” Yuuri said softly, his usual stubbornness reserved for his family and close friends. Viktor stood in the living-room, trying not to knock over a platter of purple succulent-looking plants. Humans sure likes to bring the outdoors in.

 

Georgi crossed the kitchen  in three steps, smudging the ground powder down his forehead, before dropping his hand to Yuuri’s breastbone and pressing the remaining powder to the skin between the layers of his shirt.

 

Viktor watched as threads of light poured from the dark powder on Yuuri’s skin, shimmering on his brow. One thread frayed into nothing, while a bundle of white light grew from Yuuri’s heard, floating through the air-- disappearing just above the skin above Viktor’s own heart. The strongest thread of light-- more a string or cord-- burned a passionate red, reaching  Viktor’s skin and disappearing into it as the white threads faded, dissolving into thin air between them.

 

It was beautiful.

 

It was terrible.

 

Georgi was quiet, lifting his dark painted eyes to Viktor’s.

 

“I can see your tie to Vicchan still strong.” Georgi touched the fray end of the illusion. Yuuri smiled, or at least the ghost of one haunted his lips.

 

“As well as unrequited love…” Georgi continued. “Also quite strong.”

 

A knot rose in Viktor’s throat. 

 

“That’s all.” Georgi brushed the ash off of Yuuri’s skin, the lights vanishing in a blink.

 

___

 

Yuuri was quiet, only thanking Georgi for the tea before they left. Yuuri’s grip on Viktor’s hand was light as  Viktor helped him navigate out the door. Woods seperated Georgi’s cottage from the edge of Hasetsu proper. But the woods were something Viktor frequently traveled, and a place they shared their time together in often.

 

“Unrequited love…” Viktor repeated softly. Yuuri stared solidly at the ground, his mouth a thin hard line.  They were halfway through the woods without a word between them.

 

Viktor was wrong, and what was worse… he was stupid.

 

“Yuuri…” Viktor breathed, “I…”

 

“Viktor!  Shirking your duties again!” Hooves pounded the soft dirt, and Ivan’s voice split the air. “Princess Mila has been waiting for an hour. I did not raise you to be a fool.”

 

Yuuri’s eyes lifted toward the direction of the voice, his nose wrinkling before he sneezed at the dust kicked up into air by Viktor’s father and his men.

 

“Father, I--”

 

“You’re to come at once. Mila has traveled far enough, and you have wasted enough time.”

 

“But--Yuuri.” Viktor stuttered. Yuuri’s hand slipped from his.  Yuuri had only been in the clan a few times-- and always during a festival night.

 

“Come.” Ivan growled. “Before I have to drag you.”

 

“I can’t-- Yuuri doesn’t know where he is--”

 

“Viktor, I asked of you one thing, and again you disappoint me,” His father continued.

 

“He can’t get home by himself--” Viktor continued, but it was fruitless. Oskar and Dmitri surrounded him, grabbing Viktor’s arms in an iron-tight grip. Yuuri was pushed aside, stumbling over his own feet, barely avoiding being trampled.

 

“Enough of the human, Viktor. We have talked about mixing affairs. We are here for the wedding, not for you to go off  to play.” Viktor dug his hooves into the dirt, but it was pointless against two larger centaur. Viktor struggled to look back at Yuuri, at his panicked face and tear-filled eyes.

 

Yuuri was quiet.

 

~

Oskar and Dmitri only let go when they neared camp. Lady Mila was pretty-- russet brown body and even redder hair. He could tell she was younger by the length of her hair-- his people only cut it once, at coming of age. She waved politely, but Viktor only thought of Yuuri, stranded alone in the woods.

 

His family and Mila’s talked until nightfall. Mila stayed respectfully on the other side of the campfire, her hands delicately folded in front of her.

 

“Go. Enjoy each others company.” Mila’s father had a thick beard and jolly smile.

 

“Yes, father.” Viktor said politely, but there was no enjoyment. He robotically stood, waiting for Mila to join him. She walked with purpose toward the edge of the camp, fiddling with her wooden  bracelets.

 

“Okay, Viktor.” Mila turned on him, her mouth quirked into a smile. They had been told to call each other by familiar terms, but Mila broke the rule instantly. “I don’t want to be here either, but at least I can pretend. What’s got your goat?”

 

“Pardon?” Viktors mouth dropped open, before he remembered himself.

 

Mila laughed, tenderly cupping his cheek in her hand. “You look worried. You can say the part, and you think you’re hiding it, but you’re not.”

 

“My… best friend.” Viktor glanced behind him. Mila crossed her arms.

 

“Why don’t you marry her.” She said curtly.

 

“...he…” Viktor pressed his mouth closed. Mila’s expression softened into tenderness.

 

“We’re more alike than you think.” Mila sighed. “Why don’t you marry him?”

 

“He’s… blind… and I was forced to leave him alone.”

 

“And you’re wasting time whining to me? Let’s go!”

 

~

 

VIktor had spent his entire life navigating the woods. Finding the way back to where he left Yuuri was easy.

 

But finding him there was not.

 

“He’s gone.” Viktor choked out a sob. He imagined Yuuri somewhere in the woods, bloody and torn apart. Starving and angry at best.

 

“I don’t see any hoof prints leading anywhere else.” Mila squinted.

 

Viktor bowed his head. “Because… he’s human.”

 

“Oh!” Mila squeaked. “Well. Wow. Okay.”

 

Viktor couldn’t bear to look at his bride-to-be.

 

“Well… let’s go look!” Mila sighed. “The village isn’t too far that way.” She pointed toward the western part of the canopy. 

 

They walked in silence, Mila leading the way.

 

“Mine’s named Sara.” 

 

“Sorry?” Viktor snapped out of his walking nightmare of all the different things that could have happened to Yuuri. All of them his fault.

 

“The person I love. She’s from Western parts. She’s a lot prettier than you.” Mila grinned, but Viktor couldn’t pretend to joke.  “And yours?”

 

“Yuuri.”

 

“Wow.  Local?” Mila chirped. They neared Rengadoori, the main street down the center of town. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay… tell me more. I can’t help you find him if I don’t know what he looks like.” Mila scanned the crowds. Viktor just felt panicked.

 

“Hair darker than twilight. Brown eyes… soft..” Viktor felt his chest tightened. “The center… they’re wide and cloudy… Like the night sky.”

 

“You have it bad,” Mila laughed. “Wearing blue?”

 

Viktors heart leapt in his chest. “Yes. He is. Where?”

 

“There.” She pointed to the Nishigori grocery, and Yuuri, sitting on the packed straw that housed the blocks of ice harvested from the north.

 

“Yuuri!” Viktor galloped through the crowds-- or tried to-- pushing past sailors and old women until he reached Yuuko’s storefront.

 

Yuuri shook like a leaf. His hands trembled enough that Yuuko was holding a cup of tea to his lips, and some still managed to spill down his lips.

 

“You.” Yuuko bit out, her mouth twisting into a frown. She could barely bend from the roundness of her belly, but she was on her knees, trying to comfort Yuuri. “You  stupid horse!”

 

Viktor couldn’t deny her.

 

“Take your girlfriend and leave!” Yuuko waved him away, shooing her with a free hand. 

 

“I’m not--” Mila interrupted, before shaking her head. “Is Yuuri okay?”

 

“No thanks to you! Left him to die in the woods.  If Takeshi hadn’t missed a delivery yesterday--” Yuuko rambled on angrily, but Viktor ignored her.

 

He searched Yuuri’s body-- all his stomachs filling with dread as his eyes found the bandage wrapped around his ankle, his woven sandals missing from his feet. His skin was drawn with red scratches.

 

So stupid.

 

“I told you to leave, Viktor!” Yuuko frowned, standing  setting her hands on her hips. “Go.” She jerked her hand toward the end of Rengadoori.

 

“But...Yuuri.” Viktor stood his ground, no matter how weak he sounded.

 

“He loves you, Viktor! And this is how you treat him! Leave!” Yuuko’s voiced peaked, her face flushed with anger.

 

Mila stepped forward, blocking the way. “Wait, you mean, he doesn’t know?” She narrowed her eyes at Viktor.

 

“ Know what?”  The other three chorused.

 

“The terribly obvious fact that you are  _ really _ , badly in love with him. I mean…the way you talked about him.. Described him. You’d have to be dumber than a rock not to notice it.” Mila scoffed.

 

Yuuri forced a smile, curling his hands in his lap. It was terribly endearing.

 

“He’s getting married…” Yuuri whispered, his tone relaying it as if it was a death sentence. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“But it does!” Viktor weaved between Mila and Yuuki, kneeling down so he was closer to Yuuri’s level. He wrapped his hands around Yuuri's and squeezed. “I… I do love you, Yuuri. I always have.”

 

“But…” Yuuri murmured, his hands still.

 

“I...always figured you would marry first.” Viktor continued. Yuuri’s nose wrinkled, and he turned his head away.

 

“Sure… Me, start a new household. Work the fields, own a storefront…” He rolled his eyes. “No one wants me as a husband. I’m a burden.”

 

“No! No, Yuuri, you’re no one’s burden.” Viktor hated it when Yuuri’s low self esteem got to him. “You’re beautiful, kind...your fingers weave the most beautiful things.”

 

“Then why won’t you marry me?” Yuuri’s voice was but a whisper, but it could have been a yell for the impact it had on Viktor’s heart. It beat wildly in his chest.

 

“Because I’m stupid… Thinking of only myself, and wanting to be near you… and not what you want.”

 

Yuuko snickered.

 

“Or of our cultures… In my…” Viktor faltered. “World.. Marriage is for power, and creating strong networks. There’s no love in it.”

 

“I’m not trying to be jealous..” Yuuri sniffled. “I thought it was different…”

 

“So you didn’t tell me that it upset you…” Viktor continued. Yuuri shook his head softly. “Then I forced a confession out of you… and left you alone in the woods..”

 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Yuuri’s voice was small.

 

“Yuuri, do I even deserve you?” Viktor pressed his forehead to Yuuri's, feeling the warmth from the man seep into his skin.  “I’m terrible to you…on top of that I couldn’t bear foals with you…”

 

“What?” Yuuri squeaked, laughing nervously. 

 

“I’m not human… a family…”

 

“I have a family.” Yuuri chattered. “Mama loves you, Papa does too… Mari doesn’t like anyone. I don’t need...foals.” He tried to hold back an awkward laugh at the words. “I just want.. Viktor.”

 

“Sounds like you both need to get over yourselves and marry each other.” Mila chirped.  Yuuri jolted, his eyes widening.

 

“But--you….”

 

“Don’t mind? Prefer it this way?” Mila shrugged. “I’m not going to be in trouble if I don’t get married.”

 

Yuuri wilted. “But Viktor will…”


	4. Cut

Viktor’s heart twisted at Yuuri’s expression. He didn’t want to see that kind of sadness or fear on his face ever again.

“May I borrow those?” Viktor motioned toward one of the heavy iron shears the Nishigori’s shop just had recieved from the metalworker in town. Yuuko frowned, but handed him a pair of the scissors. 

“Yuuri.” Viktor knelt down in front of Yuuri, heart stinging at how he instantly smiled at the sound of his voice. He placed the heavy shears into his hands, pressing them into his palm. Yuuri blinked, confused. “Why…?

“I want you to cut my mane. You’re the only person I trust.”

“I’m the wrong person to trust.” Yuuri laughed shyly. 

“No. You’re perfect. You’ll cut the tie to my family, and Mila can take it back as a message of my intent.”

“I can what now?” Mila gasped.

“Intent?” Yuuri said softly, his hands moving to grasp the shears properly.

“To spend the rest of my life with you.”

“But… you haven’t cut your hair in years! You said you only cut it during ceremonies..” Yuuri fretted while Viktor twisted his hair into a loose braid. 

“It’s a message. I’m no longer a Nikiforov. I’m….” Viktor faulted.

“Katsuki?” Yuuko whispered, a little wooed by the romance of the gesture.

“A Katsuki. If you’ll have me.” Viktor continued, placing the braid in Yuuri’s fingers.

“Make sure it’s long enough I can still play with it.” Yuuri said, sliding his hands an inch down the silky silver strands. He fit the blades over the thick bundle of hair, before closing them with some difficulty.

Viktor’s head bobbed back at the sudden lightness, the hair falling like a streamer over Yuuri’s closed fist.

It felt so strange, and yet somehow right.

“Oh my god.” Mila breathed.

“Yeah,” Yuuko added. “It looks awful.”

Viktor didn’t have time to pout. The cute quirk of Yuuri’s smile, seeing the years of following his family’s rules over his own happiness torn off in his hand. He felt something in him overflow.

He bent forward, capturing Yuuri’s lips in his. He felt Yuuri’s expression turn to confusion and then reciprocation, a passionate crash turning into a. sweet, shy touch. 

Viktor wanted that feeling again and again for the rest of his life.

~

Viktor grinned, hugging the package close to his chest. Viktor had gone to Yuuri’s family home with him, expecting to having to rent a room catered to his own folk at another place. Instead, they had broken the news, and Hiroko, delighted, had outfitted one of the guest stables with blankets and new hay abound. It was nicer than the tents Viktor grew up in, even if it wasn’t the same room as Yuuri. (yet.) Not for lack of trying-- they had set up a futon for Viktor, but the padding that made Yuuri comfortable was no match for Viktor’s body. 

But all was well. Yuuri had stayed out with him until moonrise, brushing him down and curling up next to his lower belly until he started dozing off. Viktor was just returning from a days shopping--- Hiroko was busy preparing for a village-wise celebration for her sons wedding, and like jockey was Viktor going to let it happen without spoiling Yuuri.

“Yuuri! I got you something!” Viktor sang. His light head of hair had been retrimmed by the local barber into something much more even. Yuuri stopped, setting down the bag of bath salts he had been carrying over his shoulder. He drifted with his hands in front of him before he followed Viktor’s voice to his hands.

“Here. Right in front of you. There’s a string.”   
Yuuri slipped a finger under it, pulling the package open. “Oh.” Yuuri smiled. Viktor needed to buy more. “It’s so soft…” He ran his fingers over the fabric, peeling back more of the paper wrapping.

“It’s blue. A riding blanket.” Viktor rambled. “For you. Not for me. It made me think of you. I want you to be comfortable.”

“ Thank you.” Yuuri rubbed the fabric across his cheek. “Put it on?”

Viktor lit up. “You want to use it with me?” Yuuri rarely asked to sit on Viktor’s back-- he always offered it first. Yuuri never said no, but he never asked either.

“My family is driving me crazy.” Yuuri dropped the wrapping paper onto the grass.

“How? We don’t even have a wedding day set!”

“This saturday is a lucky day. Auspicious. The last one of the season.”

“Oh.” Viktor blinked. “That’s three days.”

“Is that okay?” Yuuri held out the blanket, worrying his bottom lip.

“Yes! I mean, yes. Of course. If its okay with you.”

Yuuri shrugged. “My mother won’t let me do anything. She ordered yarn, and has Minako-sensei knitting you house socks as we speak. Mari’s cleaning out the banquet room. It’s like everyone’s forgotten we have a bath house and customers too.” 

“Here. Climb up.” Viktor helped Yuuri as much as he could, relaxing when he felt the pressure of his fiance leaning into him. “It sounds like a lot of work. What do…. Your people do?”

“I’ve only ever been to Yuuko’s wedding. It was a big meal… dinner for everyone. She wore a new furisode, and she and Takeshi were bound together.”

“Bound?”

“Their wrists. With a red string.. Or rope, I guess. It’s a ceremony.. There’s no magic. I think.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Viktor sighed. 

“What about your people?” Yuuri asked.

“We exchanged jewelery. A dowry. The wife moves into the same tent, and that’s the end.”

“What about husbands?” Yuuri asks lightly, but Viktor knows exactly when he’s asking.

“My father didn’t allow that.” Viktor felt his shoulders tense. “But what he thinks doesn’t define me anymore.”

“We’re fixing my room.” Yuuri murmured, tracing soft patterns into Viktor’s back. He’s started wearing the traditional clothes of Yuuri’s people-- his new family-- rather than wrapped cloths and belts of his past. 

“Thank you.” Viktor paused, leaning back into Yuuri. His legs squeezed Viktor’s sides.

“Thank you.” Yuuri echoed, his voice thicker and heavier with emotion as he buried his face in Viktor’s short shaven hair.


	5. The Wedding

The following three days pass in a blur. Before they know it , Mari intercepts Yuuri from going to sleep out in the stables. It was the night before their wedding , and they must not see each other until the ceremony begins.  Mari does not heed Yuuri's complaints or his arguing the fact that Yuuri cannot see at all, so what is the point ? Tradition is tradition. 

Viktor is only unhappy with the idea of being alone. Hiroko and Toshiya are busy coordinating the events and without Yuuri, he is lonely. That is , until the Nishigoris arrive. Yuuko is here to help Yuuri, but the triplets piled onto Viktor and squeal about their sleepover. Takeshi followed close behind , explaining that he would be staying with them for the night so they could follow tradition. 

They allow him a bath in the hot springs before they head back to the Nishigori home. Yuukos three daughters keep him busy and he sleeps well despite his nerves. 

 

The ceremony isn’t until the afternoon , and yuuko arrives home in the morning carrying a flower crown Viktor instantly recognizes as Yuuri's handiwork.  She dabs sweet oils on viktors pulse points , and folds a rich looking silver robe over his chest in the morning. 

 

“Is this a traditional color?” Viktor admires the heavy silk. It’s nicer than what he’s seen any of the Katsukis wear. 

“Hiroko thought it would suit you.” Yuuko smiled. “New clothing for a new household.”  The dark blue belt is tied low on his waist and viktor dreams about what Yuuri looks like. Yuuko pulled a tortoise shell comb through his hair before setting the flower crown on his head. It is fragrant and heavy with soft petals. Yuuri must have chosen the blooms himself. 

 

When they meet just outside the town center Viktor’s breath is stolen from his lungs . Yuuri is dressed in early evening stars — his midnight blue shirt tucked into darker folded pants with silver thread woven into the fabric. His hair is covered in a long silver veil, tucked under his own matching crown.  It reminds Viktor of spun spider silk. Viktor expected white , but somehow Yuuri's people eschew it. It doesn’t matter— Yuuri is gorgeous, even more so when he smiled at the sound of Viktors hooves against the grass and sod. Yuuri turned, his hands reaching out into the air. Viktor’s hands found Yuuri's, their fingers intertwining . Yuuri smelled even  sweeter than he looked. 

“Save it for the honeymoon.” Mari teased. Her hair sat styled high on her head and  more elaborate than Viktor dreamed of. Mari and Yuuko are dressed similarly, though Mari’s sleeves are longer and nearly brush the floor.

 

“You’re wearing the kimono,” Yuuri breathed, his hands running up Viktor’s sleeve, fingers pressed into the rich fabric.

 

“Of course I am…” Viktor’s  brow furrowed before his expression warmed with realization. “How do you know it’s a kimono?” He baited his soon-to-be-husband. Yuuri flushed, his hands stilling. “I chose it for you,” He said shyly, finding the front of Viktor’s shirt and folding his fingers into the collar to ground himself.

 

“Vicchan! Yuuri!” Hiroko called, waving them toward the main house of the restaurant that was hosting most of Yuuri’s village for the wedding. There was a priest from the local religion, dressed in full regalia waiting in the main room. Viktor carefully led his fiance toward the house, squeezing Yuuri’s hand when he felt his hand  begin to tremble.

 

The ceremony was simple. The priest chanted a blessing and shook a branch of paper talismans over their head. He then prayed over a clay cup, before Viktor and Yuuri took turns drinking from it. The taste was sharp-- ceremonial sake, a kind of a typical drink in the lands surrounding Yuuri’s home, but one Viktor rarely partook of.   Yuuko had told him the importance of drinking from the cups three times-- an indivisible number-- before passing it to Yuuri’s mother. Mari stood just behind Yuuri, describing what was going on in a low whisper. His hands still shook when Georgi, the local witch, pressed the silk rope into his hands. Georgi did the same to Viktor, pausing to give him a meaningful look. The red cords contrasted brillantly against both their sleeves and skin as they tied the rope together, before winding it around each others wrists. Georgi helped them tie their arms together-- usually it was wrists, but with Viktor being several hands taller than Yuuri, Georgi had adjusted the binding higher up on Yuuri’s arm for comfort. 

“Yuuri… do you take Viktor to be your  partner, tied together in life and fate?” Georgi said stepping back with a dramatic flourish.

 

“Husband,” Yuuri said, his voice small and cheeks instantly burning pink.  “I do,” He added quickly.

 

“Viktor.. Do you take Yuuri to be your husband, tied together in life and fate?”

 

“Always. Yes. I do!” Viktor stumbled, his voice growing louder with each phrase. Yuuri laughed, his eyes filling with tears.

 

“Then seal the vow.” Georgi looked near tears himself, the small audience of the Katsukis and Nishigori’s bursting into applause when Viktor leaned down and kissed Yuuri, lifting him off of his feet.

The actual wedding party lasted until sunset and past moonrise, the entire courtyard strung with paper lanterns and full of people. Viktor recognized some merchant families among the many that greeted them with congratulations.  Countless people came by, greeting both of them with friendly smiles. It was impossible not to-- Viktor remained bound to Yuuri at the wrist for the night. That, and Viktor knew how Yuuri preferred smaller company, and that the constant socialization was wearing him out. 

 

“Yuuri, let’s sit and eat?” Viktor curled his fingers into his husbands, rubbing soft patterns into the back of his hand.

 

“Okay,” Yuuri responded, wilting into his husband instantly. 

 

“Do you want to rest on my back?” Viktor used his free hand to smooth back a loose hair off of Yuuri’s cheek..

 

“We can’t.” Yuuri sighed, following the gentle pull from his connection to Viktor. “Our hands… and there’s so many people.”

 

“So? Are you afraid how it looks?” They sat at their table-- well, Yuuri took his seat, and Viktor sank to his knees.

“I don’t want to give them anything more to talk about,” Yuuri kept his voice low. Their table was already set with plates of food  arranged by family and guests as was custom.

Viktor frowned. “There’s a cup of tea on your left, and  wine behind it. Talk about what?”

 

Yuuri’s free hand floated through the air until it met the lip of  the glass. “You don’t hear them?” He said darkly, tilting the drink to his lips.

 

“If something is bothering you, love, let me fix it.” Viktor frowned, staring out at the milling crowd and wondering who was causing his husband distress.

 

“It’s fine.” Yuuri had trouble finding a clear spot on the table to set his drink, Viktor ended up guiding his hand to the small open space.  “Just.. humans and centaurs don’t often marry.”

 

Viktor frowned. “Yuuri, it doesn’t matter what people say.” He pressed his forehead against Yuuri’s, stroking Yuuri’s palm delicately with his fingers. Yuuri immediately softened, relaxing into Viktor’s touch. “I love you.” 

Yuuri immediately flushed pink, curling into Viktor’s side with warm cheeks. He reached out, finding the glass of wine before downing it in three gulps. By the time they finished their meal Yuuri was relaxed and pliant against Viktor’s side. Takeshi pulled them to their feet and into the grassy clearing strung with lanterns just outside the restaurant.

 

“Everyone! Viktor and Yuuri Katsuki!” Takeshi roared to the crowd, pulling the red cord and the knot binding the husbands together loose. The low keen of a violin followed Takeshi’s voice immediately, before the rest of the quartet fell in.

Yuuko had not warned Viktor of this. He stared at Yuuri, their fingers still linked even with the rope binding their wrists now curled in the grass. The music was slow and sweet, so Viktor merely took Yuuri’s other hand and swayed with him, careful not to crush his delicate feet with his hooves.  Yuuri smiled, his hands tracing up Viktor’s arms to cup his face as they slowly turned in a circle together. But the real wonder came when the tempo sped up and the crowd descended on the dance floor. Yuuri was pulled from Viktor’s grasp, spinning as he was handed from person to person, passed throughout the crowd. Viktor felt  Hiroko pull him away and he danced with her, though he only heard her laughter as he turned his head , enraptured by his husbands movements.

 

Yuuri was beautiful when he moved-- the wine buzzing through his veins and smoothing his anxious edges.  He was unbothered by being jostled back and forth, others stepping on his feet as he turned and danced around the green. They found each other in the crowd again, Yuuri laughing and disheveled, his crown of flowers sitting crooked on his head, his veil tucked into the back of his collar.

 

“Viktorrrr,” Yuuri sang, laughing and sliding his hands to cup his husbands cheeks, standing on the tip of his toes to reach.  “Hello,” He hummed before dissolving into laughter again, pressing his face into Viktor’s chest.

 

“Hello starlight,” Viktor cooed, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead just to see his reaction. He squeezed his eyes shut, swaying on his feet. 

 

“I’m too happy. When will I wake up?” Yuuri said into Viktors chest, his hands finding and resting against the curve of his back and the start of the smooth dappled hair of his lower back.  

 

“Never, I hope,” Viktor cooed. His realization may have been new, but the feelings he felt when around Yuuri were old and familiar.  Yuuri yawned, nuzzling into Viktor’s chest. Viktor tried to calm his heart, surrounded by the entire village, and what felt like half the population of another one.

 

“Shall we go home?” Viktor offered, and Yuuri’s eyes snapped open and his mouth stretched into a wide awake, brilliant smile. 

 

“Yes. You can see our room!” 

 

It took them both an hour to escape, thanking and saying their farewells to each guest and finishing conversations with others that caught them on their gradual drift toward the edge of the party.

 

“Up,” Yuuri murmured the moment they left the light of the lanterns, climbing onto Viktor’s back. He spent the entire walk home snuggled into Viktor’s back, his arms hugging  low on his waist. Viktor closed his eyes, trying to commit the security he felt with the weight of Yuuri on his back to memory.

 

There was no way he could regret cutting ties with his clan after his wedding night. Especially when he entered the Katsuki home to find four new sets of knit socks to wear in the house sitting next to Yuuri’s slippers.  Definitely not when he carried Yuuri to his bedroom, only to see the room filled with bales of straw, Yuuri’s futon covering the highest layer of sweet smelling hay.

 

“We can sleep together,” Yuuri murmured into Viktor’s skin. Viktor’s heart beat too fast-- Yuuri was right. The hay was arranged like a couch to cradle Viktor’s upper body on the same level as Yuuri’s bed, while leaving enough room for the rest of his centaur body. 

 

“You did this for me?” Viktor breathed as Yuuri climbed down his body and stepped onto the floor with a thump.

 

“Me and my family. Our family.” Yuuri said it simply, as if it was obvious. 

 

Suddenly, Viktor was glad that Yuuri was blind. That he couldn’t see the tears filling Viktor’s eyes. That he couldn’t tell unless Viktor’s voice betrayed him. 

 

“Yuuri…”

 

“I know.” Yuuri turned back to Viktor, smiling shyly, his crown and veil in his hands  as he turned. 


	6. Jizo

Viktor had the best night of his sleep in years, lulled by champagne and Yuuri’s warm form curled against his side. Yuuri slept in until the late morning sun shone into his face and on the thin white cotton of his pajamas.   
“Good morning, my husband,” Viktor hummed, smiling when Yuuri wrinkled his nose and turned away to bury his face in his pillow with a groan. “Yuuri~” Viktor hummed, trying to touch Yuuri’s cheek and instead getting his hand swatted away.

Viktor had never expected his life to be so simple and happy.

Yuuri woke slowly, and Viktor was satisfied with watching his finger trail the wall until he found his wardrobe, his mouth stretching with the soft ‘o’ of a yawn. Yuuri’s people wore different clothing than Viktor’s-- trips of cloth sewing into loose fitting robes-- but Viktor relished the way the collar hung off the back of Yuuri’s neck as he dressed.

Yuuri followed the sound of Viktor’s hooves, turning as Viktor stepped closer to him, Yuuri’s cheek resting on his breastbone. 

“Good morning,” Yuuri yawned, his weight pressing into Viktor’s chest.

“What shall we do today?” Viktor smoothed down Yuuri’s hair tenderly. Viktor had fretted about his own-- but there wasn’t much left to brush.

“Work.” Yuuri looked up at Viktor through his eyelashes. “I have to tend the gardens. Mama will probably send you to get rice from the market.”

“Then I can work with you?” Viktor pouted, and Yuuri seemed to sense it, his hands writing and flitting over his mouth and cheeks.  
Yuuri laughed. “Okay.”

“Good morning Vikkun,” Hiroko sang when they eventually made it into the hallway. “Today’s is on the table, Yuuri.” 

Viktor followed Yuuri into the kitchen, a small bowl of rice sprinkled with kibble sitting on the corner of the table. Viktor watched as Yuuri’s hands skimmed the table before finding the ceramic bowl, his eyes downcast.

“Come with me? “ Yuuri asked softly, motioning to the corner of the room with the butsudan. It housed a photo of Yuuri’s grandparents, as well as a watercolor painting of Vicchan with a ink paw print pressed into the corner. Magical imagery was expensive, and Viktor recognized the work from the Nishigori’s home.

Yuuri knelt in front of the altar, offering the rice and finding the box of matches and incense instantly. “Here,” Yuuri held them out, nestled in his palms. “You go first,”

“I--um,” Viktor stuttered, trying to get as close to the altar without crushing Yuuri with his larger body.

“It’s just Vicchan… and Obaasan and Ojiisan.” Yuuri said comfortingly. Viktor had met them-- soon after he had made friends with Yuuri under their festival booth. Yuuri’s paternal grandparents had been kind and loving-- always carrying around salt candy and looping protection charms around Yuuri’s neck.

Viktor struck a match, watching the flame flicker as he held it to the earthy green incense stick. 

“Thank you… for taking care of Yuuri for me…” Viktor mumbled, setting the stick in its holder. “I miss you.”

Yuuri took the boxes from Viktor, his hair tickling his arm as Yuuri leaned in. 

“Thank you for watching over me and my husband.” Yuuri murmured, his hand shaking a little as he placed the second stick, closing his eyes.

After a moment of silence, Yuuri led Viktor back to the kitchen, where breakfast was sitting for them on the table. 

Viktor, long ago, had worried for Yuuri. It was rare to see humans with such afflictions-- with mages and witches in every town. Viktor had imagined it to be a curse, and had made the stupid mistake of asking why.

Yuuri had pulled him to the back gardens, and to the neat row of four jizo statues. 

“I had four sisters.” Yuuri had answered, still barely taller than the maple tree that shaded the statues. Each had a hand-sewn red bonnet and apron.   
“After Mari, I mean. I never met them.” Yuuri talked about it easily. “My mom didn’t want to risk anything until I was finished with Shichi-go-san. When I was eight, Mage Nekola told me that I’d have to exchange something for my sight. By then, I figured out that sacrificing something else wasn’t worth it.”

Viktor had left later with his family a little less worried for his best friend.

Now, in the Katsuki home, the love and care that the family had for Yuuri was obvious. The jars of spices on the table were painted with raised dots, and the pots on the stove were enchanted to sing before boiling over.

“Vikkun, can you pick up our rice for the month today? We have some bags for your back to make it easier for you. You could make it in one trip when we take two.” Hiroko had asked after they had finished eating. Yuuri poured another cup of tea, his finger pinching the edge of the cup so he could feel the warm liquid before it spilled over.

“Of course.” Viktor said. He no longer had to build and break down camp, carry his home on his own back, He had Yuuri--- he’d do anything for him.

“I’ll be in the gardens.” Yuuri had walked with Viktor to the front door, handing him the leather pouch with the Katsuki’s coins. “Be safe.”

Viktor leaned down, kissing Yuuri’s lips delicately. He relished the blush and soft smile.

“Don’t make me regret sending you away,” Yuuri whispered. Viktor vowed to himself run the entire distance and back.

The rice was heavy-- large sacks carried in by barge. But the sweat was worth it when Viktor came back from the store house. But when Viktor searched the gardens, they were empty.

Viktor froze when he came upon a broom laying next to the koi pond close to the house. The dirt was pounded by hooves, but Viktor knew he wouldn’t miss something this important.

Yuuri had been taken. 

And Viktor knew where.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/health-and-families/jizo-statues-the-japanese-statues-giving-closure-to-women-who-have-miscarried-a7519416.html


	7. Fic art

[](http://i.imgur.com/2IkQzjN) >

Art by impatvish ( Twitter and tumblr )  
Idrawmaybe on Instagram


	8. Clan

Viktor’s clan voices were like water in a creek-- louder the closer he got, and constant. Eyes of people he had grown up with watched him warily. Men with long braids eyed his short styled hair warily. But Viktor didn’t care to notice.

“Where is he?” He roared, sweat rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t need to clarify-- Niko pointed directly to the Nikiforov tent in the middle of camp. Viktor made it past the front flaps before Otabek stopped him short, a spear held to his throat. 

Viktor swallowed back a cry-- Yuuri looked like a doll, limply propped up against the main pole, his wrists and ankles bound together, his frosted eyes hazy and jaw slack. 

Even worse than that, he was naked-- stripped down of his shoes, socks, trousers… jacket. If he had been missing the strip of cloth around his hips-- Viktor would have murdered. 

“Viktor. How kind of you to show your face at home.” 

“It’s no longer my home, father,” Viktor snarled. He pushed Otabek’s spear away, kneeling at Yuuri’s side. 

“He was given lockroot. He wouldn’t stop fighting.” Viktor’s father continued. Viktor hissed, cradling Yuuri’s cheeks in his hands.

“Of course he didn’t stop. You kidnapped him.”

“I don’t understand, Vitya. He’s soft and tender. Half your size. What about him is leaving your entire life for?”

“I won’t answer until you give me charcoal.” Viktor wiped the small trail of drool from Yuuri’s chin. His heart ached.

His father knew better than to try him. Within ten minutes Alma had a small bowl of ground charcoal and water. Viktor held it to Yuuri’s mouth, tilting his head back and whispering comforting words as his husband choked down the mixture.

“So?” Viktor’s father continued expectantly.

“I love him. And he loves me.”

“You could have love from your own kind. Thanks to you, our alliance with the Babicheva clan is ruined.”

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.” 

“It is exactly why I did this, Viktor.” His father snarled. “You’ve spent your entire life chasing after fantasies without considering the consequences. You can’t even protect your own mate.”

“You paralyzed him in order to get control of him. I don’t think he needs me to protect him.” Viktor had not missed the teeth marks on Alma’s hands.

Viktor’s father grabbed one of Yuuri’s feet, jerking it up unceremoniously. “What good is this, Viktor? A fruitless marriage with a cursed human.”

Viktor cradled Yuuri’s head, his other hand going to support the leg that Yuuri was hanging by. 

“He’s not cursed.”

“Maybe. But useless. Those people do not mate for life, Viktor. This is your second chance. Fix what you’ve done.”

“Anatoly--” Alma hissed. “Let him go.”

Viktor looked down, his heart seizing in terror at the red bubbling from Yuuri’s lips.

Panic told him it was blood. Logic told him it was lockroot, and Yuuri needed to be on his side so he wouldn’t choke on the sick.  
Viktor grew angrier the longer Yuuri was sick, his hand pressing into the small of his husbands back.

“You gave him enough to kill him, Alma.” Viktor growled. It was hard to hate his nursemaid since foalhood. “He only has one stomach.”

At least she had regret on her face. She came back with a wet cloth, wiping Yuuri’s face and using her knife to cut the rope on his wrists. 

“Let me make sure he recovers.” Alma begged.

Viktor agreed, but only because he knew humans did not practice the same medicine.

“Give me his clothes,” Viktor snapped, cradling Yuuri closer. Behind his paralysis, he knew he must be shivering.

“They’re being washed.” Alma bowed her head. “To prevent infection.”

Viktor grit his teeth. “He’s a human, not a monster.” He did not trust his father, but he knew Alma cared. She left, returning with fur and blankets.

It took several hours until Yuuri’s hands lifted to Viktor’s face and danced across it, finding his hair.

“Viktor,” Yuuri rasped, his eyes moving to find Viktor’s as soon as he sobbed a reply. 

“Yes. I’m here. You’re in my arms. We’re in my old tent.”

“I’m sorry. I thought it was you.” Yuuri’s voice was hoarse and weak.

“Don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine.” Viktor tried to fight back the sting in his eyes. “I’m sorry I put you in danger.”

Yuuri groaned softly, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “No… you didn’t.”

Viktor looked up to where his father stood, at the entrance of the tent. “I did. Your parents have no idea where we are.”

“Then we’ll go home.” Yuuri closed his eyes and snuggled closer to Viktor’s chest.

Home.

“I wish it was that simple, love,” Viktor kissed the crown of Yuuri’s head, his eyelids fluttering open at the gentle touch. “I have to make sure my father won’t go after you again.”

“What does that mean?” Yuuri’s voice was barely above a whisper, his throat probably burned from the paralyzing tincture they had forced him to drink. 

“It means we stay until I’m sure that this won’t happen again.” Viktor watched Alma kneel by his side, setting a stray with a bottle of water and a plate of cured meat and pelmeni dumplings by Yuuri’s elbow.

“Are you hungry, love?” They had parted after breakfast, but it was now nearing sunset. 

“Mmmh,” Yuuri sighed non committedly, his cheek resting against Viktor’s chest. “Cold.”

Viktor frowned, wrapping the furs tightly around his husband. “They’re cleaning your clothes for you.”  
Yuuri flushed pink, his fingers curling into his palm. “Oh.”  
“I’m sorry they didn’t ask .That they did this.”

“It’s not your fault, Vitya,” Yuuri mumbled. Viktor held a piece of meat to Yuuri’s bottom lip. He opened his mouth, chewing slowly.

“They did terrible things to you, Yuuri.” Viktor bit.

“Not terrible. Just different.” Yuuri drank water from the bottle. It was lukewarm, but better than nothing.

“Yuuri--”

“I know Hasetsu’s culture is different… you’ve done so much for me. I need to understand for you, too.”

Viktor’s heart broke.

“Yuuri-- this isn’t cultural. It’s my father. Even if it was my culture, that doesn’t make it okay.”

“Viktor,” The centaurs head jerked up. It wasn’t Yuuri scolding him-- the voice was full of fear.

“Zoya,” Viktor straightened his back. “What is it?” He hadn’t expected to see his cousin, especially in such distress.

“It’s Tatiana. She heard you were back, and she wants to see you.” Zoya’s face was too pale and tear-stained for this to mean something good. “She’s been bleeding ever since she birthed her foal.”

“Why wasn’t Alma there?” Viktor bit out. Yuuri’s fingers brushed his cheeks and Viktor squeezed him tightly.

“She was-- Anna was sent for a witch. Please, Vitya. Come.”

Viktor wrapped Yuuri in the furs, carrying him in his arms rather than his back. Zoya led them out of the tent and down the main avenue where the other centaurs had set up camp.

“Tanyusha,” Zoya called. “I have Viktor.” Viktor knelt by the bed of furs. His cousin did not look well- pale and thin, her eyes glossy. She had the same silver hair of Viktor’s mother, though it lay limp and dirty.

“You’re here,” Tatiana breathed, managing a weak smile.

“Yes, of course,” Viktor felt slightly sick to his stomach. “Tanyusha, you look sick.”

“I’m dying, silly,” Tatiana rolled her eyes. “Alma said I wasn’t healthy enough, and she was right.”

Viktor swallowed, his throat suddenly sick. “I don’t have any medicines from the humans. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be silly.” Tatiana closed her eyes. “I heard you married for love.”

“I did,” Viktor looked down and met Yuuri’s eyes-- as if he had felt that Viktor was looking for him. “I don’t understand. What...what do you mean?”

“I won’t live past tonight, and Katya’s father was a traveler. I… I have a last wish.”

Yuuri found Viktor’ s hand and squeezed it.

“I want Katya raised with love. Will you take her and raise her as your own?”

“Tanyusha, I’m not sure--”

“Can I see her?” Yuuri asked, pulling the rope from his bound ankles and feeling for the ground with his toes.

“Of course…” Tatiana looked into Yuuri’s eyes, before lifting a bundle of cloth and carefully setting it in the bend of Yuuri’s arm. The foal was nearly too big for Yuuri to hold with one arm, as his fingers danced gently over the child's face and soft downy hair.

“She has our mothers’ hair, and the brown body of her father. Like she was meant for you two.” Tatiana let the tears spill from her eyes. “Please. I want her to be raised in love, and not obligation.”

“Tatiana… I…” Viktor pushed his hair from his eyes. “We haven’t even been married a full day.”

“You married the boy you’ve fancied since you were ten, haven’t you?” Tatiana still managed to smile. “You weren’t very sly about it, Vitya. We all knew.”

Viktor felt his cheeks burn pink. “Yes, but…”

“Viktor can be a little thick-headed sometimes,” Yuuri murmured ruefully. “He means yes. He will.”

Viktor startled, looking down at his small husband curled around the sleeping bundle.

“Yuuri-- are you sure? It’s our whole lives.” Lives that, so far, had been rather dramatic.

“You’re only saying no because of our marriage. That means you’re worried about me. And I’m… not worried.” Yuuri answered flatly. “She’s family, right?”

Viktor nodded, forgetting himself for a second. “Yes. Tatiana is my cousin, through my mother. We have the same hair color.”

“And eyes?”

“Well, we won’t know until a fortnight after the birth-- the color doesn’t settle until then. But her mother does, yes.”

“She’s beautiful, then.” Yuuri felt for Tatiana’s hand and held it in his. “We’ll raise her the best we can. I promise. I love her already.”


End file.
